


Day 26

by problematiquefave



Series: Kinktober 2018 [26]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Dom/sub, F/M, Kinktober, Orgasm Control, Sex Toys, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16424261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: Madison wakes up with a mischievous glint in her eyes that promises Troy more than he can handle.





	Day 26

His head is filled with fog when he wakes up. It’s not a bad thing – comforting even, the haze that settles over his heavy limbs, the way his mind repels all thoughts and just focuses on his senses. On the light streaming through the window, on the distant sound of birds chirping, on the weight of the blanket covering him, on the calloused hands stroking his arms.

Troy knows who’s touching him – the exact same person he went to bed with last night, the one he does every night. Maybe that will change if they ever find the others, if they ever see Nick, Alicia, or Strand again.

The dam’s been down for months – the river flows free. The likelihood looks dimmer by the day.

He puts it out of his mind though. They’ve agreed; the past is the past. What he did, what she did, everything that happened – it doesn’t matter. They can just _be_. Madison and Troy. Maybe they get a couple of strange looks from the people they share a home with but she puts a hand on his shoulder every time he’s tempted to confront them, reminding him, even if just silently, that they’re guests in this little Mexican village. They took them in, nursed them back to health (from near death, in Troy’s case), and they can kick them out at any point. If being judged for their age gap is the price to pay, so be it.

It’s probably not just the age gap. There’s a dysfunction to their dynamic that’s plain to see no matter your race, creed, or age. It’s more than just the power balance, and it’s something they both ignore – it’s works for them because they’re two dysfunctional people with sins that way on their shoulders. Genocide, patricide, it doesn’t really matter.

It especially doesn’t matter when Madison leans in, lips pressed to his neck. He bares the skin to her. Whatever she wants, whatever she likes. All thoughts of their past or their dynamic, however brief that were, return to the dark crevices they’d come from. Sensation returns, dominating him like she does. She rolls him over on his back, throwing her legs across his lap. She’s spry for fifty and he’s old for twenty-four. Or is it twenty-five now?

Age is meaningless, especially as she captures his lips in a passionate kiss, her fingers exploring every bump and inch of his pale skin. She’s clothed, he’s not. It’s another thing about them – that she has privacy, that he doesn’t – and it’s another thing he doesn’t mind. Not when it gives her easy access to every part of his body, that it means nothing stands between her hands and his cock.

Her lips move lower, sucking on his neck again as she lazily jerks his cock. He revels in the feeling, in the electricity that shoots through his veins. He knows, however, that it isn’t just this. She’s usually not so kind to him, so focused on his pleasure unless she wants to torture him. And in that case…

Bring it.

It can’t be called a suspicion because Troy knows her too well but whatever it is, suspicion or not, is confirmed when she pulls away with a smirk. He props himself up on his elbows, watching as she steps off the bed and wanders over to their dresser. Their room is sparsely decorated – the rest of the house they’d been generously given isn’t much better. Dust bunnies are more common that knick-knacks. He doesn’t need any of that though; he only needs Madison. She’s the last thing he has left.

She understands that. She’s a whip-smart woman who’s knows what she has and utilizes every tool and weapon in her possession. He’s her lover, sure, but he’s both of those things as well. He’s in the palm of her hand and she knows it. He’d do anything for her – has done anything for her – and she takes advantage of that. Sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad ways, and sometimes in ways that could make even the most hardened of men blush.

Troy doesn’t blush though when she pulls out the battery-powered vibrator. She found it on a supply run, properly sanitizing it before bringing it back. She only gets it out once in a while, when she wants to see him fall apart into a tiny, thousand pieces. She wants to torture him – it’s just like he said, and he doesn’t mind. Not for a second.

He throws off the last of the covers as she returns to the bed. He rolls over on his side and she lays down beside him, plastering herself along the curve of his body. He sucks in a deep breath and lets out a shuddering sigh, relaxing his body as Madison slicks up a finger. She presses it against his hole, sliding through the ring of muscle with little resistance.

“Good boy,” she murmurs in his ear.

She adds another finger, leisurely thrusting them in and out of him until deciding to scissor him. She whispers more praises in his ears, cooing softly about how _good_ he is for her, what a _sweet_ boy he is. Madison talks to him a bit like a child – in a way that should be insulting, patronizing, and maybe even repulsive. But it’s not. He shakes and quivers beneath her touch, anticipating the moment she grows bored with it and the real game begins.

She doesn’t want to hurt him, he knows that. There’s times when she _does_ , when he craves the pain too, but this isn’t one of them. So she coats the vibrator in a good amount of lube before placing it at his entrance. It’s bigger than her fingers but still thin. It’s curved too, with a flared base. It’s just the right size and shape to torture him with pleasure.

It isn’t turned on immediately. She sets a slow but steady pace, pulling it out and pushing it back in. The curve causes it to brush against his sweet spot with every thrust, sending blood to straight to his groin. She sneaks her other hand around him, taking a firm hold of his cock right at the base. He’s not allowed to come. Not yet.

It’s hard to relax when he knows what’s to come, when he knows at any point she flip the switch to _on_ and sensations will overwhelm him. She tries to coax him into it though, with those soft, saccharine words but eventually she gives up. Eventually she switches it on and his whole body trembles.

It’s indescribable, nothing that can be said to describe the tsunami of pleasure the rolls over him. The way it tortures him, tightening the coil in his stomach that has no chance for release. Not with her hand on him. How it’s enhanced by her fire-hot kisses, her breath washing over his skin. And even when she does let him come, the assault isn’t over. It continues to buzz and vibrate inside him, overstimulating him.

But he never tells her to stop. Being at her mercy is the best part of this.

**Author's Note:**

> It's still technically October 26th in my timezone so here we are. Comments are appreciated; I'm also on [Tumblr](https://problematiquefics.tumblr.com/).


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